


Cocktober 9: Scared AKA Puppy Love

by Glitter_Bug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: A little bit of angst, A rescue dog, Angst, But honestly it's still mostly fluff, Fluff, Implied animal abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Steve is afraid of dogs, Swearing, There's a dog!, because she's a rescue, but there's no detail about it at all, to start with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: Billy really wants a dog.Steve really doesn't like them.Until he sees Pixie.A curly, blonde pile of absolute fear masked with fury.And she reminds him so much of a certain someone...
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97
Collections: Cocktober Prompt Meme





	Cocktober 9: Scared AKA Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> It was meant to be sweet and fluffy, but I ended up delving a little too much into Steve's issues and it got a bit angsty.  
> It turns fluffy again in the end though.  
> It's a fluff-angst-fluff sandwich.  
> Not beta read, pretty much just thrown together in an hour after inspiration hit me. If you see any glaring errors, let me know. 
> 
> Warnings for the implication of animal abuse but it is NOT detailed at all.

“Steve?” Billy’s voice is calm, measured. The kind of calm and measured that Steve knows means he’s just finished slowly counting to ten in his head.

“Bill?” Steve aims for the tone of ‘innocent boyfriend who has done no wrong’. He hits ‘squeaky’ instead.’

“What is...that?” Billy gestured at the couch. At the space next to Steve.

“That’s our couch Billy. You know, big, squishy, floral. It’s been here a while, I thought you’d have noticed it by now.” Steve smiles up at Billy, thinks he might just have managed innocent this time.

“ _ On _ the couch Stevie…” Billy is pinching the bridge of his nose, and  _ oh _ , that’s not a good sign. Not combined with the internal counting. Steve drops his act immediately, 

“I went to the shelter today,” he explains quickly, “I was just gonna look, but then I saw...her.”

He gestures to the little golden dog curled up on the cushion, her eyes firmly fixed on Billy, a low rumble coming from her mouth. The movement causes her to start growling properly, a high, frantic noise that starts to sound more like a pained yap the longer it goes on. Steve reaches out a hand, and he’s slow- barely moving at all- but it’s still too much. The little dog pushes herself as far away from Steve as she can, pressing into the arm of the couch with her head hanging down and her body trembling, the low growl still coming from her throat.

“She’s so scared Billy, she was shaking like that in her cage. And the guy said she’d been there for months, and that they couldn’t really keep her much longer and that she’d probably never find a home because she doesn’t like kids or other dogs or, well, people really and I couldn’t just-”

“Steve,” Billy cuts him off mid ramble, “It’s OK. I’m not angry, I was just a little surprised. I thought you still didn’t like dogs.”

Steve nods because,  _ yeah, that’s fair _ . Because he hadn’t. Not since it turned out that fighting things that look an awful lot  _ like _ dogs- and having recurring nightmares about those things coming for you and your friends in the middle of the night- can cause your brain to get kinda muddled somewhere and freak out entirely when you see anything resembling a dog. Especially  _ actual _ dogs. 

And because Steve didn’t usually come across that many dogs in his day to day life, he’d figured it wouldn’t matter too much. 

And it hadn’t. It hadn’t even come up at all. 

Until he’d started looking for a place with Billy. And Billy had outright dismissed all the apartments that Steve suggested because, apparently, Billy wanted a place with a yard so that they could get a dog.

And Billy had been so enthusiastic, had smiled so brightly when he talked about the huge St Bernard that his Aunt used to own, about how he used to look after it a lot when she was on holiday, how he’d walk it on the beach and spend all day playing with it and would even fall asleep all curled up next to it. How it used to growl at Neil and made Billy feel safe and protected, just for a few days. 

So Steve hadn’t said anything. Had signed for the cute little one-storey with the yellow kitchen and the good sized backyard and nodded and smiled whenever Billy talked about the kind of dog they would get. 

And so Steve had  _ tried _ to get over his little issue. Had deliberately chosen a route to work that took him past the grubby little park where everyone went to walk their dogs. Had taken deep breaths and thought happy thoughts and tried to make his brain realise that he was looking at creatures which had fur instead of slimy skin, which had noses and panting tongues and big puppy eyes and definitely  _ didn’t  _ have petals and rows and rows of sharp tiny teeth.

It hadn’t worked. 

Robin had staged a mini intervention after Steve’s third panic attack. 

Had called him a  _ dingus  _ but then had also given him a very rare but very welcome hug. 

And she’d tried to help. Had bought in books and magazines about dogs for Steve to read, snatching them away as soon as his breath started to quicken. Had sat with him in the backroom and watched Lassie and Benji and  _ definitely not Old Yeller Steve, put it back.  _ Had held his hand when he had to close his eyes. 

And she had encouraged him to talk to Billy about it. 

And so he had. And Billy had understood. Because  _ of course _ he would. Had said that it was OK, that they didn’t need to have a dog, that the yard would be good for a cat too, or chickens, or a particularly small and not too demanding horse. And he’d smiled and held Steve’s hands and kissed him all over until he was smiling too, but Steve knew that Billy was disappointed. Knew that Billy would never say it or show it or act on it, but they knew each other inside out, and that could be as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

So Steve kept on trying.

And he made progress.

Found that he could look at the books and watch the films without flinching. 

Found that he could walk past the park without panicking.

So he started visiting the animal shelter with Robin, looking in at the tiny puppies and the hyper terriers and the old, plodding labradors.

And he found he was mostly OK. He no longer felt that gut wrench of fear, the sickly surge of adrenaline. He felt...OK.

He still didn’t like the biggest dogs or anything too skinny looking, but he actually didn’t mind the yaps and the barks because demodogs had  _ never  _ yapped or barked. 

But still, he hadn’t meant to actually  _ get _ a dog. Not yet. 

They still talked about it and he knew that Billy wanted something big and cuddly, something that would protect them, and Steve wasn’t quite ready for that yet. So they were gonna wait.   
  


But then he’d seen  _ Pixie _ . 

All curled up in a tight shaking ball, pressed up in the far corner of her cage and snarling the moment anyone even thought about looking her way.

A curly, blonde pile of absolute fear masked with fury. 

And Steve made the mistake of asking about her. Had found out that she’d been hurt, a lot, and that she was running out of time to find a home. That she had a couple of weeks left, maybe. 

And Steve couldn’t just leave her. 

Not when he had a home and a yard with space. 

Not when she reminded him so much of... _ someone. _

And here they were. 

And Billy isn’t angry. He’s  _ never _ angry at Steve. He gets snarky, and pissy and grumpy but he never gets angry. 

But he still deserves an explanation.

So Steve tries again.

“I know she’s not exactly what you planned,” Steve says, “But she’s fierce- I  _ know _ she’ll protect us eventually. She’s just scared now. She’s been hurt, Billy, and she thinks everyone will hurt her because that’s all she knows.” Steve watches as Billy takes it in, watches as understanding dawns in his eyes, “And she might be a challenge, and I know I’m probably being dumb, but I honestly know she’s good. I know she’ll be OK if she gets love and kindness and someone to look after her. She’s never had it before, so it’s all new and scary and she just wants to growl and fight because that’s what she’s always done but-” Steve takes a moment to clear his throat, to wipe at his eyes, notices Billy doing the same, “she’s already trying. We’ve only been home a few hours and she’s getting better, I swear. She wouldn’t even come out of the carrier to start with, and now she’s on the couch with me. That’s amazing, right?”

Billy nods, and Steve can his throat bobbing as he swallows a few times, hears the rasp in his voice as he says, “Yeah, Stevie, that’s really good. She’s really doing well.” 

Billy sits himself down in the space on the other side of Steve. Moving slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb Pixie, who had just stopped shaking and was curled back onto the cushion, lying the tiniest bit closer to Steve’s leg this time. 

“What- uh- what’s her name?” Billy asks softly, inching out his fingers until they could entwine with Steve’s.

“Pixie,” Steve’s smile is apologetic, “But she doesn’t seem to answer to it. We can change it.”

“Damn right we’re changing it. Fucking  _ Pixie.  _ No wonder she’s pissed off. What kinda dog is she anyway?”

“Oh, er, they don’t know. Some mixed up breed apparently. They’re pretty sure she’s part cocker spaniel though, going by her curls. I’ve been trying to figure it out.” Steve gestures at the pile of dog books on the coffee table. “So far I think she might be a cockerpie or a cockapoo or a cockachon, but I’m still not sure exactly.”

“So our girl’s definitely got some cock in her then?.” Billy grins, a sly smile spreading across his face, “Taking after her Daddy already.”


End file.
